<
But they cried even harder, their small faces turning red.
“Daddy…” Mia whimpered. “We feel so bad…”
“What can I do to make you feel better?” Dominic asked softly, gently wiping away her tears.
Leo, his eyes red, looked at Elara. “She’s allergic to mangoes too. Make her drink mango juice! Make her suffer too!”
A chill spread through Elara’s heart.
She looked at Dominic, the coldness in his eyes making her shiver.
“Alright.”
He straightened up, snapped his fingers, and two bodyguards immediately entered the room.
“Hold her down.”
Before Elara could react, she was pinned to a chair.
A bodyguard pinched her chin, forcing her mouth open.
A liter of mango juice was poured down her throat. The sweet, cloying liquid choked her, and she coughed violently, her throat burning.
Red rashes appeared on her skin at a visible pace, her face began to swell, and breathing became increasingly difficult.
She clawed desperately at her neck, her vision blurring, as she looked towards Dominic.
He stood there, watching with cold indifference, showing no intention of stopping them.
The children had stopped crying, excitedly clapping their hands. “Serves her right! She deserves to suffer too!”
Before darkness fully enveloped her, the last thing Elara saw was Dominic’s icy gaze.
Elara woke up in a hospital bed, an unknown amount of time later.
1:46 pm D
<
Her throat burned, and her face was still covered in allergic rashes.
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Familiar voices drifted from outside the ward – it was Cassandra.
“Dominic, I truly didn’t know they were allergic… I just wanted to make them some juice…”
“It’s not your fault,” Dominic’s voice was incredibly gentle. “You didn’t know.”
“If I had explained the situation sooner, you wouldn’t have misunderstood Elara,” Cassandra said, her one resigned. “Leo, Mia, it’s your fault too. Everything is my fault. How could you put all the blame on your mother to protect me?”
The children’s tearful voices came clearly:
“Auntie Cassie, we know we were wrong…” Mia whimpered. “We just… just don’t like Mommy…”
“Yeah,” Leo chimed in. “She’s always bossing us around, not letting us eat snacks, making us go to
bed on time… We wanted her to leave…”
Elara’s fingers gripped the bedsheet so tightly her knuckles were white.
These were the children she had carried for ten months, almost dying on the operating table to give
birth to.
She remembered the day Leo was born; the delivery room waiting area had been empty.
